


Sunset Ride

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Other - Freeform, Writing - Good use of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first venture into Tolkien slash, this is a story of the Rohan noble house -- Théodred, in specific, dealing with a small problem his cousin Éomer has created...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

_Year 3007 on the Gondorian calendar..._

Prince Théodred son of Théoden son of Thengel, heir apparent to the throne of Rohan, Second Marshal of the Mark and Commander of the West-Muster, was in a merry mood. Nothing especially was adding the lightness to his step or the glint to his eye; nothing more than the summer breeze wafting to him full of the smells of grass and horses and sunlight glistening through the windows of Meduseld. 

The reports of orcs and other fell things on their borders had ceased, leaving the Rohirrim in a wary peace. For a time, it seemed, they could focus on their herds and their fields instead of bracing for battle and fearing dark tidings. 

Erkenbrand, his second and close friend since boyhood, caught up to him. He was a carefree man with a sunny smile and an easy stride. "Well met, my lord." 

"Brand, where have you been? I've had runners searching the whole of Edoras for you." 

His friend raked a hand through his blond mane and shrugged. "I was helping the stablelads with Longstride, my lord." 

Théodred made a small "hmm" noise and gave his friend a sidelong glance. "Helping them by wearing that beast out with a long ride through the fields?" 

Ekernbrand coughed. "Perhaps a bit, lord." 

Théodred feigned injury, his pale blond hair slipping from its binding and falling into his eyes. "I am distraught you did not invite me." 

"You were long in council, my lord." 

Théodred made another "hmm"ing noise and shouldered his friend hard. "Impertinent as ever." 

"There remains much daylight, my lord." 

Théodred sighed as he thought of the golden rays bathing the great field of Rohan. He longed for his boyhood when he could slip through a window, leap upon Dustflank, and be gone for hours on end and return to only a minor scolding. He was not a boy any longer. Next spring would see his thirtieth year, and while he was flush with the vigor and bloom of youth, he had responsibilities. 

"I must speak with the representatives of the herders of the north." 

"More arguing about whose cow farted over whose fence?" Erkenbrand asked with a half-smile. 

"Most like," Théodred said ruefully. "And then that prancing gelding Grima has demanded some of my time." 

"I see not why you dislike him so. He has given much good advice to your father." 

The Prince frowned. "I cannot say precisely why I dislike him. It matters not." 

"Well," Erkenbrand said, changing the subject artlessly. "A ride at dusk, chasing fireflies and feeling the evening wind could be a welcome respite." 

"Alas, my evening is promised to my cousin, Éomer." 

"Oh?" 

"Yes, I promised him a lesson in blades and I've been sore neglectful of him of late." 

Erkenbrand made to hide a smile behind his hand. 

"What?" Théodred demanded. "Why do you mock me with your veiled grin?" 

"Oh no, my lord! I would never be so bold or so in need of a bruising that I would mock you. It is merely you mention your cousin..." 

Théodred's eyes flashed. "He is a true son of Rohan, heir after me, with the blood of Eorl thick in his veins. His father, Eomund, died but a few years ago in true service to our people. Tell me what cause you have to make light of him?" 

Erkenbrand sobered at his friend's sudden moodshift. He was, by now, used to the way the Prince could go from laughter to a swinging fist faster than a man could blink. "Apologies, my lord, I truly meant no offense. You know the men and I would gladly spill our blood for him. We love him nearly so much as you do." 

"But...?" 

Erkenbrand prevaricated. "It is no matter." 

"Then it will take but a moment to speak it." 

"But it need not be spoken." 

"But you have already begun," Théodred countered. "Now speak or must I drag it out of you?" 

Erkenbrand gave him one of his put-upon looks. "Well, my lord, I did not wish to trouble you with this, but since you demand it of me. Some of the men, well, they have remarked to me that the sister-son has been, how shall I say, been trotting with his tail bannered." 

Théodred paused, glancing curiously at his friend. "Has he?" 

"Most definitely, my lord." 

"To whom?" 

"Those that have spoken to me of it? Hama, Garulf, Éorthas...even I have been the recipient of his less than discreet suggestions." 

Théodred stared hard at him. 

Reading his thought on his face, Erkenbrand immediately waved his hands in a plaintive gesture. "I assure you, lord, the thought never occurred to me me. He is a comely man, to be certain, and I've helped more than one Rider scratch a spring itch, you may recall." His look was so earnest Théodred found himself blushing, remembering a cool spring night with jasmine in the air. "But he is your liegeman, and I would not for Eorl's own horse touch him without your leave." 

"If that was a request, you may consider it denied." 

"Yes, my lord. But the matter still stands. He is proving most...distracting. And it is hampering his lessons. He nearly fell from his horse just yesterday." 

Théodred let out a low, heavy sigh. "Indiscreet you say?" 

"Yes, lord." 

"How indiscreet?" 

"He requested of me, afternoon before last, if I might aid him in practicing both his grip and his thrust." 

Théodred began to laugh. 

"It is a serious matter," Erkenbrand said, though he was grinning openly. "I fear Éomer may well explode if he is not assisted." 

"I shall speak with him and encourage him to cease pawing the men." 

"Thank you, my lord," his friend said graciously. 

******* 

The day's meetings were indeed dull. The herders haggled of grazing ground down to the last blade of grass. Somewhere in the middle of their incessant arguing, Théodred envisioned himself drawing his sword and beheading them and informing their sons that such was the fate of whiners. Appealing though the thought was, he of course had to find a less bloody solution. 

His conversation with Grima was actually pleasant. The old advisor spoke of his hardier days when he'd patrolled the east under his father, Marshal Galmod. For a time, Théodred found himself forgetting his intangible grudge, but after the councilor left him, he felt even more ill at ease. 

He went and found Éomer, who was precisely where he was supposed to be; in the armory, readying practice weapons and padded armor. His fair face was shadowed with the earnest beginnings of a beard. When the prince entered, his cousin smiled brightly. 

"Hello, cousin," Éomer said. "Fine day in council?" 

"If such a day can be had, I've yet to see it, but it was well enough." 

"Have you eaten? I've set aside some bread and cheese and a pint of mead." 

"That was indeed thoughtful of you, but I've no appetite at the moment." As Éomer picked up a padded hauberk, Théodred halted him with a raised hand. "Leave aside the weapons and armor, cousin. I have decided that we shall ride this eve instead." 

Barely concealing his disappointment at having their exercise cancelled, Éomer nodded and hung the hauberk back on their racks. When he was done, they went down to the stables and saddled their horses; Thornflank, the cranky stallion that Théodred had come to love and Thérod for Éomer. 

They flew out of Edoras at a run so fast that their hooves hardly touched the ground, whooping and laughing with every stride. Free and wild were they, like the way Eorl had always intended for his people to be. Into the setting sun they rose, dust rising in clouds behind them and birds taking flight to scatter from their path. 

As twilight descended, they came to rest at last by a small brook. Their steeds drank long and gratefully. Théodred, laying upon a grassy hummock, watched Éomer as he removed the saddles and then drank a little himself. His cousin had grown so fast. He was only now really noticing that the boy in absurd braids who had dogged his every step had faded to leave a young man, tall, lean of muscle and easy of gait; at home in the saddle and fleet-footed on the ground. 

"I hear you are becoming lax at your lessons." 

Éomer's face burned and his eyes blazed. "Who says such a thing?" 

Théodred laughed. "You needn't toss your mane, cousin, it was friendly concern not insult that formed the words. You have always been an attentive -- if impatient -- student. What has happened to distract you?" 

His cousin hunkered down and pulled at the grass, his form shadowed in the deepening dusk. "I suppose I grow bored with them." 

"Oh ho! So now my young cousin knows all that my eored has to teach. How wise and mighty is Éomer, son of Eomund." 

His cousin blushed deep in the shadows. "I have bested many of them on the practice grounds," he said defensively. 

"The practice ground is far and apart from the battlefield. You are merely sixteen--" 

"Seventeen, or as close as," Éomer retorted. 

"If we counted all our years one as close as the other than a babe would be in his dotage before he'd first suckled his mother's teat." 

Éomer frowned and sulked, clearly not enjoying the debate. 

It was clear to Théodred that his cousin would not speak of the thoughts burning deep inside of him, and he was a simple man. A Prince, certainly, but also a Marshal and a leader who took care of his men. Idly, he pondered things as shadows gathered. 

"Perhaps I can yet teach you something, cousin," he said softly. 

Éomer looked up with hope in his eyes. "What?" 

Théodred got up and dusted himself off. "Bring Thérod over here, but leave his saddle." 

Éomer pulled himself to his feet with a loud groan. "I have ridden bareback many times, cousin," he said sullenly. 

"And are you now a mindreader among your many talents?" Éomer cast his gaze down in a show of contrition and brought over the horse. "I thought not. You have ridden as long as you have walked, but I think perhaps you have a bit to learn about horses. You know what commands to give, but you do not know why a horse obeys." 

He placed a hand upon Thérod's muzzle and smiled at the beast. It ducked its head and did not move. He remembered, suddenly, the foaling that had brought this gentle animal into the world. Since that day he had been fond of the horse, fond enough to entrust Éomer to his care. 

Éomer was about to climb up but Théodred halted him. "One thing first." 

"Yes?" His cousin was clearly confused. 

"Strip off." 

Éomer blinked rapidly and stood motionless for a moment. "Why?" 

"Taken to questioning me too? You are indeed growing rebellious." 

Éomer again looked contrite. "I simply do not understand, " he said as he wriggled out of his clothes. 

"I wish to make sure you do not embarrass me by nearly falling off your horse again," Théodred said sternly. 

Éomer blushed crimson. "I...I...was..." 

"Distracted?" Théodred asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"Yes, cousin," Éomer said, standing naked beside his horse. 

Théodred was indeed impressed. His cousin was indeed a man now, taut with muscle and radiating virility. This would be a pleasant lesson after all. 

"Now, up, up on his back." 

Éomer climbed up easily, settling in and looking very uncomfortable. Théodred did his best to not laugh at his cousin's plight. The Rider was clearly baffled. "Now, start with a simple walk around me here." 

His cousin nodded without speaking and nudged Thérod with his heels. Obediently the animal began a slow walk, picking at grass along the way since Éomer did not elect to stop him. Théodred watched, enjoying the sight of the shadows playing over his cousin's body and the evening breeze lifting his blond mane. 

"Can you feel the muscles shifting beneath you?" he asked. 

"Yes, but I don't--" 

"Hush," Théodred ordered. "The bond between rider and horse goes very deep. Every muscle that contorts, every sinew that bends, they should feel as close to you as the pounding of your own heart. You should know before the horse does what he will do next." 

Éomer's eyes had drifted half shut as Thérod walked calmly beneath him. The air was neither warm nor cold, and there was an exhilarating feel to it caressing his skin. The whole of the world drifted away from him. 

But he still knew not what his cousin was asking of him. 

"Halt a moment," Théodred called. "I shall help. Close your eyes, cousin, and let me guide you." 

The young Rider fretted, anxious in ways he could not describe. Like a wild stallion against a tether, he fought against the feeling. Now was hardly the right time, now when his cousin was pressing the point of paying attention, he could not afford to drift off on some dream. 

He felt his cousin settle behind him, and the smell of him was so familiar it scattered Éomer's thoughts anew. He caught his breath as Théodred's hands slid up over his back and down his arms. "You need to forget sight, forget sound...you need to only feel..." the Prince said into his ear, hot breath spilling over his shoulder. "Feel the flanks between your legs," Théodred instructed, his hands massaging the flesh of Éomer's legs. 

The young Rider swallowed hard against a suddenly dry throat. He could feel his cousin's bare chest against his back and he knew as surely as if his eyes were open, his bright-eyed, smiling cousin, the man he worshipped, was naked on the horse behind him. 

It was almost too much to bear. 

"Move the horse not by command...but by will..." Théodred murmured. 

Thérod walked in a lazy circle, neither aware nor interested in what the two Rohirrim were doing on his back. His chief point of interest was finding the sweet grass that seemed to grow aplenty in this little field. 

Éomer, eyes still closed, felt his cousin's arms securely around his torso and felt so utterly safe that he found himself slipping further and further from the task at hand. He knew his cock was stiff and straining between his legs and had been for a while now. At first he had feared what his cousin would say if he discovered it, but now he was aching for a single touch... 

Shaking himself, he snapped his head up and struggled slightly. "I, I need to, to get back. I..." 

"Shhh..." Théodred soothed him. "You are in no danger, cousin. I came here hoping to help you find some measure of peace from your turmoil...and I shan't leave until that is done." 

His hands slid down the muscled chest slowly, allowing the Rider to straighten and sigh in anguished relief. He found Éomer's cock hard and waiting for him, and as he grasped it, his cousin let out the most contented sound he had ever heard. 

Down its length his fingers slid and over the tightly-curled balls beneath. As Erkenbrand had said, his cousin was nigh on exploding with his unsated desire. With one hand, he pulled Éomer against him, nestling him against his chest even as he ever so lovingly tended the straining cock. 

Thérod walked from one patch of grass to another, sampling, no longer guided or restrained by his masters. 

With his strong arms, Théodred hefted up his cousin and turned him around. They looked deep into one another's eyes even as smiles spread over their faces. They kissed, a sport Éomer was either naturally talented at or had in fact had some practice at. In either case, their tongues danced together for a long, tender moment. 

Then Théodred bade his cousin lean back and he leaned down so that he might have the first taste of Éomer of Rohan's cock. He was long out of practice, but it hardly mattered to the lust-weakened Rider, who groaned loud into the darkness at the first deft touch of a tongue upon his erection. 

Théodred did not rush, for he knew his cousin could not last long in any case. He kissed the soft head and then took it between his lips, teasing at first. Éomer made more sounds of surprise and pleasure that drove him on, down the long shaft until he was sucking the great cock with all with power he could muster. Up and down he slowly went, savoring, enjoying. 

But before long, Éomer was shuddering and crying out, and Théodred had the prize he sought. 

He smiled contentedly at his bleary-eyed cousin, his eyes twinkling in the dark. "I would have been happy to do that if you had but asked," he told Éomer. "You needn't have thrown yourself at every Rider in my eored." 

Éomer smiled. "I did not dare approach the stallion of the herd," he said demurely, touching Théodred's cock for the first time. 

The Prince sighed contentedly. "Perhaps it is time you showed your obedience more openly," he murmured, his eyes burning. 

Éomer nodded, excitement showing in his face. He leaned down and kissed the head of the Prince's cock, mouthing it in a passable imitation of the wonderful service his cousin had done for him. Théodred breathed deep of the night air, and looked skyward. In his mind, he kept close the knowledge that this was Éomer's first cock...and the excitement that brought was intoxicating. 

They ended on the hummock, and with the aid of a special oil Théodred had thoughtfully brought along, the Rider surrendered himself fully, as one should to the Stallion. With his elbows cushioned in the soft grass and his knees splayed wide, Éomer of Rohan became a man amidst the grunts and strains of an impassioned joining, his joyful cries lost on the playful wind. 


End file.
